


Schizo Eric

by shecat105



Category: South Park
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-21
Updated: 2016-10-21
Packaged: 2018-08-23 17:03:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,029
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8335492
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shecat105/pseuds/shecat105
Summary: idfk what else to call this but I think its cute and its kyman and goes with my headcanon





	

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I am well aware that mental correctional facilities are portrayed in this fic in a way that is inaccurate to modern practices. It was written this way for the sake of story telling. Thank you for keeping this in mind as you read, and thank you for reading!

The dead of night had long passed and the first gray strings of sunlight began to stretch across the sky.  The homes of the little mountain town were quiet and calm as each citizen slept soundly in their beds. 

A single figure slipped through the shadows of homes.  He sighed in relief as he leaned against the side of a green house; finally, he was almost safe.  The figure entered the backyard and froze before the window.  His shoulders twitched a little, eyes withdrawn in an inner battle.  However the struggle only lasted a few seconds before he rapped his knuckles against the glass, waking the boy inside.

 

Kyle tensed awake as soon as the knuckles hit his window.  He checked his bedside clock: 5:38.  Who the hell would be beating on his window at this hour on a Tuesday?  Kyle would have prefered to ignore it and go back to sleep, but his curiosity was too great.  He slowly split the closed blinds for a small peek hole.  His eyes met those of days past, days he didn’t think he’d relive again.

“Cartman?”

The other responded by motioning Kyle to open the window.  Kyle opened the blinds, but knew well enough about the other boy to not let his window open any more than enough for clear words.

“What the hell are you doing here?”

Cartman’s glazed eyes were wide, and a little bloodshot.  When had he slept last?  “Kyle, please.  Let me inside.”

“Why would I do that?  I know you, fatass.  Where did you go, anyway?  Wait, are you just wearing socks?” Kyle asked as he glanced down at the thin layer of snow around Cartman’s clothed feet.

“I’ll explain, just please let me in,” Cartman’s voice sounded desperate and afraid.  As much as Kyle had always hated the kid, he had never really  _ hated  _ him.  More of a required annoyance, really.  And he was insanely curious to hear Cartman’s story.  So he opened his window and popped the screen out so the other could climb in.  As soon as Cartman was inside he replaced the screen and closed the window.

“So what are you doing here?” Kyle asked again.  His eyes glanced over Cartman’s body, noticing a distinct lack of body fat stretching out the sweatshirt and pants he wore.  A flash of unavoidable concern for his old friend brought new questions to his mind.  

Cartman looked around the room, anything that wasn’t Kyle, as he spoke, “Mom and I left town.  She took me to the city.  I now stay in an institution.  I don’t like it there.  I finally escaped.  I came to the only one I could trust to help me.”

“Then why did you come here?” the question popped out.

Cartman looked to the floor at his feet, his fingers playing with each other nervously, “Because I trust you.”

That was all he said.  Kyle stared at Cartman, trying to read the darkened, whizzing eyes.  It was obvious wherever Cartman had been had changed him.  Kyle remembered the confident, manipulative kid he used to be friends with.  This was not him.  

“Cartman, are you okay?”

Cartman bit his lip, eyes intent on the floor.  He looked like he was struggling to find an answer.  Kyle let the question go and dug in his drawer.  He returned to Cartman and held out his hand.  “Put these on.  I don’t want my carpet getting wet.”

Cartman finally looked up into Kyle’s eyes.  The sight was unnerving to say the least.  Just his face looked halfway to starved and insane.  Cartman reached out to the socks, his fingers almost bony in comparison to what they used to be.  He took the socks gently, almost expecting them to explode as he touched them.  “Thank you,” he whispered.

Kyle stepped back and sat on his bed as he watched Cartman remove his old socks and put on Kyles’.  Before, Kyle’s socks would never have fit the fat feet, but now with all the extra weight gone, the socks slipped easily.

The boy before Kyle seem so fragile, so small.  Kyle was scared for him.  What had happened to Cartman in the last three years?

“Cartman?”  The boy remained seated on the floor, holding himself a little.  “What happened?”  Cartman stiffened, drawing himself in closer.  Kyle slipped off the bed and sat across from him, just watching, unsure what to say or do.

The room slowly grew brighter as they sat in silence.  Kyle noted Cartman’s hunched form.  His grayed complexion.  The greasy hair.  The loose clothes.  And the constantly changing expression on his face.  One second it’d be wrinkled with fury, the next he bit his lip hard enough to bleed to keep the tears away.  There were plenty of scars on Cartman’s bottom lip, hinting that he bit his lip that hard way too often.  Eventually, Cartman seemed to settle on a dead and empty look.  Kyle rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly, racking his brain to say something.

“I’m schizophrenic.”

Kyle froze as Cartman spoke.  He blinked at the announcement.  What were you supposed to say to that?

“They’ve done so many things to me.  I don’t know who or what I am anymore.  I’m constantly hearing voices, seeing things.  It was never this bad before.  They made it this way.  I needed to escape.”  Cartman looked up at Kyle’s blank, yet interested, face.  “I don’t want to go back.”

Kyle could only stare into the lost eyes. “I don’t know what to do.”

“I don’t want to go back.”  Cartman repeated the words several times.  

Suddenly a loud knock on the door made both boys jump, “Bubbie, it’s time to get up!”

Kyle quickly rose to his knees, seeing Cartman reverting back into his protective limb shell again, “Uuhh...yeah, mom, I’ll be out in a bit!”

Kyle placed his hands on Cartman’s shoulders, shaking him to get his attention as he whispered, “Cartman.  I have to get ready for school.  You can’t stay in my room.”

“No!” Cartman pleaded, “Please, I’ll be quiet.  They won’t know I’m here.  They won’t find me.  Please.  Don’t make me go back!”

“I’m not going to make you go back!” Kyle assured, although Cartman didn’t look like he believed it.  “I’m not going to make you go back, but you can’t live out your life in my bedroom.  I have to tell my parents anyway.  How would you get food and water?  Go to the bathroom?”  Cartman’s fearful eyes gazed up at Kyle’s stronger ones.  “You trust me right?”  Cartman nodded.  “Then trust me to know my mom will do the right thing.”

The boy relaxed a moment later, giving in.  He allowed Kyle to help him to his feet and guide him down the stairs to the kitchen.  Sheila gasped at her son, “Kyle!  Who is that?  What is he doing here?”

Kyle hoped his eyes projected the concern he felt as he explained, “It’s Cartman, Mom.  He’s been someplace bad.  He doesn’t want to go back.  I don’t think he should.  Please let him stay, Mom.”

Sheila’s shocked expression fell into regret, “I’m sorry, Kyle, he can’t stay.  I’m going to have to call his mother to get him.”   
“What?” Kyle exclaimed, trying to keep a frightened Cartman still, “He can’t go back!  He said he trusted me!  I said he could trust you!”

“There’s nothing we can do, Bubbie,” his mother insisted sadly, “I know how it looks, but he needs the treatment.”

Kyle shook his head, clinging Cartman to his shoulder protectively as the boy repeated his mantra, “No!  He can’t go back!”

“Kyle, I need you to understand me right now, okay?” Sheila requested in her no-nonsense tone, “Eric needs the help.  His illness will not get better without professional help.  It’s not the best type of help, I know that.  But there’s nothing else.  It’s his only chance.”

Kyle felt the burn of tears as he stared his mother down.  He knew she would call, no matter what he said.  He knew he had already lost.  His mother’s face relaxed in sympathy as her son silently complied.  With a heavy heart, and her son’s gaze at her back, she quickly phoned Cartman’s mother.  The call was quick, done in less than a minute.  Sheila turned to the boys standing in the center of the kitchen, “She’ll be here in about an hour.  You can stay until he’s gone, then I’ll drive you to school.”

Kyle remained silent, hushing the terrified whimpers of his friend.  Cartman continued to chant “I don’t want to go back” as the redhead ran his hand up and down his back in comfort.

Seventy minutes later, Kyle was still holding Cartman, although they had moved to the couch.  Cartman had fallen asleep against Kyle’s shoulder, eyes stained with fearful tears.  Kyle himself had not spoken a word to his mother, instead keeping his attention on Cartman.  Kyle’s hand felt along the other’s spine through the sweatshirt, disgusted by how pronounced it was.  Cartman had lost a shit ton of weight in the last three years.  It would have still been a shit ton if he was healthy, but this wasn’t healthy.  This was beyond malnourished.  Liane was going to have to fight to get her son back.

With that thought, the doorbell rang, waking Cartman from much needed sleep.  Kyle held him closer, feeling the rush of wind against his face as his mother rushed to answer the door.

“Where is he?” Liane asked instantly.  It irritated Kyle that she sounded so fretful.  

“He’s right here,” Sheila blocked the doorway with her body, lowering her voice, “Is Eric really okay there?  He looks awfully sick.”

Liane didn’t give an answer that Kyle could hear.  His mother moved to allow Liane inside.  The woman went straight for her son, kneeling down to see him, “Eric?  Honey?  Are you okay?”

“Mom?” Cartman stirred a little at his mother’s voice.  He didn’t seem to be afraid of her as he pleaded, “I don’t want to go back.  Don’t make me go back.”

The look of pure pain in Liane’s eyes were almost enough to make Kyle feel sorry for her, “I’m sorry, baby.  We don’t have any other choice.  I’ve told you that.  You’ve missed three doses of medicine.  That’s why you feel like this.  Your nurses are just outside waiting for you.”

Cartman shook his head hard, clinging to Kyle’s shirt desperately, “No.  Mom, don’t make me.  Please.”

“Why does he have to go?”

Liane gazed up at Kyle as he spoke.  Her eyes searched his for a few seconds before answering, “He fights it.  All the time.  And all it does is make it worse.  But he doesn’t realize that.”  Her eyes returned to her son’s in sorrow, her hand stroking his head softly, “I’ve tried to get it across to him, but he never hears it.”

Kyle watched Liane silently mourn for her son’s suffering, clearly not in any hurry to bring him back either.  The redhead made a decision.

Kyle pushed Cartman up so he could look into his eyes.  “Cartman,” He began, “I need you to keep fighting, but I want you to fight a different fight.”  He waited to see if Cartman was truly listening before he continued, “I want you to to stop fighting for yourself.  I want you to fight for everyone you care about.  The real people.  Not the ones in your head.  It will be hard, but I know you can do it.  You ate a bunch of fake treasure.  You’ve lead religions.  You got Family Guy cancelled.  You saved the whole damn town from hippies!  You can beat this.”

He wasn’t sure if Cartman actually heard anything he had just said, but something had to have gotten to him as Liane calmly led him out of the house.  Kyle watched from the door as Cartman was put in the back seat of a car, strapped in, and immediately given medicine through his bloodstream.  Kyle remained on the front step long after the car had disappeared.  Sheila eventually roused him back inside to get ready for school.


End file.
